


for the people who want to be there, it's perfect

by antpelts



Series: poetry/song inspired be more chill fics [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues, Tender Sex, Tenderness, its not that graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23474884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antpelts/pseuds/antpelts
Summary: inspired by/quoting an incredible comic by ig-86-ska on tumblr. // https://ig-86-ska.tumblr.com/post/149289475779/but-for-the-people-who-want-to-be-there-its
Relationships: Rich Goranski/Michael Mell
Series: poetry/song inspired be more chill fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688794
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	for the people who want to be there, it's perfect

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i didn't proof read, its 3am

The summer heat was sticky, it made Rich want nothing more than a cold shower followed by sitting on the floor with nothing but boxers. It didn’t look like he’d get that.

Michael’s fingertips all but stuck to his back every time he brushed over a scar. He traced skin grafts and dragged his fingers over raised scars that seemed to have a blue tone to them, rather than pink. Rich felt every pull as the skin shifted, their sweat making any contact languid and heavy.

Instead of complaining he pushed his face into the pillow, ignoring the suffocating warmth. 

The silence was tense, Rich was sure that Michael knew, in the back of his head, how each touch became more unbearable. He was never good at keeping his hands to himself, Rich supposed he knew that.

There was no music, no documentary, no YouTube video, no game. Nothing. Their attention belonged to each other. Rich felt anxious. He was waiting.

Waiting for the day that Michael would yank his hand away _(as if he’d been burned)_ and choke out a whispered command for him to leave. Every day he waited for the other boot to drop. He waited for the day Michael asked to fuck him with the lights off. He waited for Michael to start sleeping with his back to him. 

It would probably be graduation. They’d break up like half of the other high school couples. Before their first date he’d heard Michael make a joke about all the hot guys he was going to meet in college. A year and a half later he still thought about it. Really, he thought about it twice as much these days - graduation was in exactly two weeks now.

Michael moved from fingertips to his whole palm. It felt as if they were suctioned together and Rich nearly squirmed. Instead he held his breath and kept still as he felt the hand drag over his skin. It paused in the middle of his back, fingers splaying out. He couldn’t help but think about how big Michael’s hands were. Said hand inched over until fingertips took a detour, curling around his hip. Despite everything Rich felt his breath stutter.

Neither of them spoke as Michael gave him a tug, easing him until he rolled onto his back. It was gentle, a suggestion. He didn’t flip Rich, he waited for him to roll. He could have easily flipped him on his own. Rich supposed that meant something, Michael waiting for him. He closed his eyes with a breathy sigh, trying to keep a relaxed look on his face.

The kiss he was waiting for finally came, nearly hesitant.

If he opened his eyes he was sure he would see Michael with one eye half open, lazily watching him. He made a note to ask why he didn’t close his fucking eyes. Though, he could already hear the answer in his head, _‘I wanna see you.’_

 _‘Why?’_ was what he would never reply back.

What if Michael didn’t have an answer?

Michael’s teeth were pulling on his lip, fingers returning to curl over his hip as he hefted himself up to hover over Rich. His eyes were probably closed now. The hand slid lower until fingers gripped the edge of his thigh tightly. There was a brief break in the kiss where Rich breathed in sharply.

How was he here? Underneath _Michael Mell._ Sure, he was all but a nobody at Middleborough, he was loud, he talked a lot, people would talk about how annoying he was - but he was beautiful. His eyes seemed to tear through Rich, it felt like there was something Michael was seeing that he just couldn’t. 

Michael was beautiful, he was smart, he talked like he was on death row, there were things he just _didn’t_ seem to get.. but Rich loved it. Everything that got turned around on him, that got held, used, against him was Rich’s favorite. He could halt a conversation by oversharing something weird, he could ignore the room’s tone and spitball facts that effectively ruined the mood, he’d butt in, he’d interrupt, he just didn’t get shit. It was amazing.

Michael was unabashedly everything that had been conditioned out of Rich through extensive _electro therapy._

He was jealous.

“I love you, Richie.” It was low and husky against his ear where Michael was biting as he dragged fingers up and down Rich’s thigh. 

Rich responded in a low groan, arching his back and pressing his head back into the pillow. He could stay like this forever. Cracking an eye open he watched Michael sink down, pressing his cheek against Rich’s stomach. Those eyes seemed to look right through him. He threw his head back, screwing his eyes shut. He’d rather just focus on the feeling of Michael tugging at his boxers until he was able to slip them out from under his hips.

He pictured what Michael was seeing - pale thighs, skinned knees, burns scars, skin grafts. He was thinner than he’d been before, a side effect of his trauma. There was a new fragileness to him. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” The voice drew Rich from his thoughts, his head was swimming. He felt hot breath against his thigh where Michael was nuzzling upwards until his nose bumped against his erection. “So fucking hot.”

“I thought no one would ever find me attractive again.” It was choked out but there was no way that Michael didn’t hear it. He didn’t stop, tongue dragging lazily around Rich’s base. Soon it was replaced with a hand, gripping him steadily so the tongue could drag upwards.

“You’re like a shitty basement ska show, yeah?” There was a pause, Michael rubbed his cheek against Rich’s erection now, leaving his mouth free to talk. There it was - no filter. Rich appreciated it, Michael had done his fair share of arguing Rich on the topic of his attractiveness. It was practically useless. It wasn’t even that he had that poor self-esteem, he was just aware he was damaged goods. “Rough and loud and hot. Everyone can go to their popstar of the week’s concert but I’ve got you.”

Before Rich could answer he was choking on a gasp as Michael’s mouth sunk down on him. Besides, he was worried he’d cry if he started talking.

Only Michael would be able to find the right way to compliment him, to talk about him.

“You drive me crazy.” For a moment he could barely make out the words, he pictured Michael’s mouth, hovering above him, dripping with spit as he pulled back. “You _are_ fucking crazy. And I love you for it.”

With that he was dipping down again, lowering himself until Rich felt the bump of his nose against his pelvis. Michael groaned lowly until he felt Rich’s back arch, pleased with himself he started to lazily bob his head.

So what if ‘attractive’ wasn’t the first thing that came to peoples’ minds when they saw him, not even in the top ten. Michael showed up to his shitty one man show, he pulled up a seat and kicked up his feet, sliding down until he would have to haul himself up if he wanted to move. He curled his toes, hands fumbling around until they found Michael’s hair, tugging.

“You’re so hot, Mell.” He’d let his eyes crack open a bit, raising his head to look down at his boyfriend. His voice was strained, not only because of Michael, it was strained with a practiced roughness, harsh enough to force out his s’s without the hint of a lisp. Michael would later tell him he missed the sound. Rich would respond telling him that he at least had the smoke-tainted graveliness, that wouldn’t go away with practice. “I love you so fucking much.”

Rich was crying.

He threw his head back so that Michael wouldn’t notice - he wouldn’t be able to take it if he stopped. Besides, it was a _good_ cry. His hands held Michael’s head in place as he jerked his hips, Michael took him with a practiced ease.

“I love you. Michael, I love you,” it all but became a chant before his voice cracked, getting shrill as he arched his back, pulling Michael’s head down even further. He collapsed back down shortly after, eyes closed, panting. When he let himself crack one eye open he saw Michael hovering above him, haloed by the shitty ceiling light.

Without so much as a word Rich strained, reaching down until his hand could rub over Michael through his boxers. His other hand stretched to tug on the waistband until he was able to inch them down around his thighs. Soon Michael’s head was pressed against his neck, leaving dark marks against his skin, hips jerky as he rutted in Rich’s hand.

“You’re everything to me.” Breath hitched against Rich’s neck. “Fucking _everything,_ Rich Goranski.”

Hands were pulled away, resulting in a frustrated groan until Rich slithered downwards, pushing and pulling at Michael until thighs were planted on either side of his head. He stuck his tongue out, mouth wide until Michael got the hint, guiding himself right where Rich wanted him.

“You’re my world, my whole fucking world.” It was far too romantic to be said as he was fucking Rich’s mouth, sweat shining on his forehead. Michael was always too tender for his own good. “I’ve never been more attracted to a man in my life.”

Soon he was shuddering, collapsing next to Rich. They were sweatier than before but Rich didn’t have the energy to stumble to the shower. 

“I mean it.”

Rich believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments appreciated


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